Tom Kane's Blog

A word can change a mind. A sentence can change a life. A book can change the world

cover image demon murders

Figuratively speaking Jude Brubaker sat on her favourite sofa, except her whole body was stiff and though seated her legs and arms were sticking out in front of her body at odd angles, making her look like a child’s tossed aside puppet. The evil that had penetrated her home defences had spent hours assimilating itself to its new surroundings, while Jude was forced to sit and watch. To watch an evil presence, go from a dark shifting mass to an obviously human form was deeply unsettling in itself, but when the transformation had almost completed, Jude was then subjected to a malevolent tirade until the being had finally and literally spirited itself away, leaving Jude in this state of a living rigor-mortis.

Jude had tried with every fibre of her body to move, but the spell was such that even she was overwhelmed and she then knew the malevolence was one of the Furies, those ancient so-called goddesses of vengeance, born of vengeful malevolence in the underworld to wreak havoc on humanity, simply because humanity existed.

“You exist, therefore… I hate you.” The voice was back and a dark foreboding overcame Jude. The voice was just behind her and whispering in her right ear. Jude shuddered involuntarily. Don’t show her your fear.

“You would do well to listen to yourself, human. But of course, you aren’t, are you? Human I mean.”

Jude said nothing, not wanting to give the Demon-Witch any advantage in the impending battle that would soon unfold.

“I spoke to your daughter.”

If Jude’s body could have stiffened any further it would have. “Leave her out of this. This is between me and you, bitch!”

Footsteps behind and then to her right alerted Jude to the movement of the Fury. Finally, Jude saw what it was she was up against. Short blond hair, highlighted in pink, wearing ripped jeans and a cut-off denim jacket, mostly open at the front showing her cleavage. The toned and tanned body made her look like a rich kid beach babe, but the dark stare in her eyes soon cleared up that little illusion.

“Like the look, sorceress? I always love what human females can do to their men, especially in this modern era. Of course, I’m partial to women as well,” she said, removing her denim jacket. She looked at Jude’s sticking out legs. “Looks uncomfortable,” she said, then snapped a finger and Jude’s legs dropped to a more normal position.

Jude sighed with relief and then looked up at the Fury. “Leave my child out of this.”

“No, I will not. I want some fun while I’m here. We live in a perpetual drab-grey existence on the other side, so when in Rome, I’ll take my fun where and when I can get it.” The Fury smiled. “It won’t take me long to wrest control of the power from her,” the fury moved forward and sat on Jude’s lap, legs apart, and leaning forward licked Jude’s left ear.

Jude squirmed, tried to resist, but was helpless.

“I need what your brat has and I will use whatever is at hand to wrest that power from her.”

Jude, powerless to move, felt the heat rising in her pelvis and realised the Fury was exerting her sexual power. Whatever it was the Fury was after she was willing to use the renowned sexual attraction they exerted to bend Jude to her will.

“Not just this earthly, human, sexual quality, but also fear and pain to get what I was sent here for.”

Jude almost gasped, realising this malevolence was under orders from…

“Never you mind who sent me,” she said, standing and removing her torn jeans to reveal the tiniest white panties Jude had ever seen. The panties barely concealed the mass of blonde pubic hair. “You like what you see, don’t you?” The Fury’s silky voice was having a somnolent effect on Jude. The creature slid two fingers down into her panties and began rubbing her clitoris, a dark stain from her juices quickly forming to soak the panties.

Jude was beginning to succumb, she knew, a dark moan forming deep inside. She desperately wanted this, wanted her own tongue where the creature’s fingers were now furiously rubbing to make herself come.

 

 

May trotted up the stairs. It was her way, she told herself, of keeping fit. By the time she had reached the top level of the house she was puffing slightly and small beads of sweat were forming on her brow. Suddenly, she stumbled forward and landed heavily on the carpeted top step. Cursing she pulled herself up and felt a hot surge of lust wash over her. May shook her head and the feeling passed. Confused and a little unfocused, May opened her study door and walked in. As she looked at the opposite wall her confusion turned to black thunder. In huge white letters on a bare red-brick wall May saw words daubed across the wall.

 

May! Help me! She’s going to destroy the world

 

Dan, at his location in the den, heard May scream in what appeared to be rage.

“Jimmy! JIMMY!”

Dan could hear May screaming Jimmy’s name as her footsteps pounded down the stairs.

“JIMMY!”

May burst into the room and Dan looked shocked at the rage on her face.

“He’s gone too far this time, too far! It’s his way of getting his own back, all because I ruined his new shirt!”

May yanked her cell off the counter and speed dialled Jimmy’s number. She tapped her foot furiously as she waited for Jimmy to answer.

May took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. In a voice that was sweetness and light she said into the cell, “Jimmy. Doing anything nice tonight? No? Good, because I have a job for you. Get over here as soon as you can and I’ll go through what I want doing.”

May slapped the cell shut and banged it onto the counter.

“He’ll be a few minutes,” May said to Dan. “I’m going to start cooking. Help yourself to a beer. I’m going to have a large glass of Zinfandel. Wait here, please. I’ll explain when Jimmy gets here.”

Dan watched as May walked out of the room, her body language telling him to do as he was told.

Dan sat and listened to May clattering about the kitchen.

 

May had virtually destroyed several heads of Broccoli with her large cutting knife, chopped carrots so badly they almost looked like a pile of orange mush and had generally caused havoc in the kitchen when the front door bell rang.

May stabbed the small knife she was holding into the wooden chopping board and walked out of the kitchen

Dan popped his head out of the den as May walked past towards the door.

Pulling the door open, May smiled her friendliest smile.

“Jimmy, how nice of you to come over at such short notice,” May said, taking Jimmy by his left arm and pulled him toward the stairs.

“I need to show you something upstairs. Your handiwork from earlier on isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Dan followed at a discreet distance, a look of concern on his face. Jimmy looked back at Dan, his face reflecting Dan’s. Both men were silent, knowing full well that this was not the time to say anything. May was on a mission.

May stopped outside the door to her study. She turned to Jimmy and flicked a look at Dan standing just behind Jimmy that told him to say nothing.

“Remember, Jimmy, I said paint it plain white with a few deep red highlights?”

Jimmy nodded.

“What we have here is not what I wanted. I wanted highlights, Jimmy, highlights. Know what that word means, Jimmy? Highlights in deep red, not this shit,” May said as she swung the door open and pushed Jimmy inside.

Jimmy took a few faltering steps and walked into the room.

Dan looked at May and she looked back, nodding her head for him to go into the room after Jimmy.

May stood outside and waited.

“Hey, I like what you’ve done with this room, Jimmy.” Dan’s voice echoed from the empty room.

“Thanks.” Jimmy’s puzzled voice came echoing from the room.

May scowled and shouted, “You like it?” May entered the room, stopping dead in the doorway.

The two men turned to look at May, who stood in the doorway, a look of consternation on her face. “What the fuck?”

Jimmy looked at Dan and Dan returned the puzzled stare.

“Yeah, I think it looks great, not just nice, it’s fabulous in fact.”

Jimmy smiled his thanks at Dan

“But this is not what was here earlier,” May said, entering the room fully.

May walked around the door and did a complete three-sixty sweep of the room.

“What was here earlier?” Jimmy asked. “It’s exactly as I left it. Not quite as dry as I expected it to be, but still the same. What did you expect, May?”

May, her mouth wide open, strode around the room, eyes wide and shocked.

“May?” Jimmy said, a little bit of concern in his voice.

“Help me! She’s going to destroy the world.”

Dan and Jimmy looked at May.

“What?” Dan asked.

“Help me! She’s going to destroy the world,” May said again. “That’s what was written on the wall in big white letters. The wall was bare, bare red brick.”

The two men looked on helplessly as May continued to walk around the room, shaking her head. She stopped at the offending wall and pointed to it. In a shaky voice May said, “Right here. That’s what was written in big letters, right here.” She stabbed at the wall to make her point, wiping at the white emulsion now sticking to the end of her finger.

“Can’t see how that’s possible,” Dan said.

Jimmy nodded in agreement. “It’s just as I left it. Is this a joke you two are pulling?”

“NO!” May screamed. “I am not going mad. That’s what was written on this fucking wall.” May was furiously stabbing a finger at the offending wall and was equally furious that the two men doubted her word. So much so her body was quivering. “This wall here,” she stabbed at it again, to emphasise her point. “In white fucking paint,” she screamed.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

image from the book The Brittle Sea

Hell

The stinking rat infested hell hole that was their prison had seen very little activity except when slops of food where served in buckets dropped on the straw and feaces littered floor.

“How long has it been, captain?”

Richard Blackmore shifted his position on a dirty straw and mud floor and looked up. Opposite him, David James was in a bad way. His ship’s doctor, kneeling besides James, had done, was doing, his best to keep James alive.

“Six months by my reckoning, Doctor.”

“It’s a miracle I’ve managed to keep any of the injured alive. Not enough nourishment, water you wouldn’t feed a dog and as for bandages and med…”

“I know, Doctor. I know.” Blackmore shook his head imperceptibly, the injury to his head still giving him headaches even now after so long being incarcerated. “You have done a sterling job, and you will be commended, if we ever leave this rat infested hole.”

The doctor winced once as he observed his captain’s obvious pain, and turned back to the first officer. James had a broken right arm, probably caused by the blast on-board ship that had propeeled him to the ships guard rail and as he had hit that, he then toppled over into the sea. Which is where the broken ribs and concussion had occurred. But the doctor also suspected internal bleeding. Not enough to kill at once, just enough to make it a slow and painful death if not treated at once. Of course, the y had managed to abandon ship and once of the sailors had swam, with James in tow, to the shore. The entire crew had been picked up, one by one or in small groups and had eventually been put in the hell-hole they found themselves in.

Richard Blackmore closed his eyes and hoped and prayed for salvation, but realised that without communication to the outside world to their predicament, then they would have no hope of rescue. Blackmore could see that dawn’s early light was creeping up and in through the cell’s barred window. Any glass that may have been there had long gone and the dawn now flowed into the cell like quicksilver.

“Are we ever going to get out of here, captain?”

In one corner of the cell sat the hulk of George Nance. A man steeped in the sea, so much so all he ever spoke about was the sea and what his ancestors did while at sea. The Cornishman shifted his position and waited for Blackmore’s response.

“Good question George and I wish I had an answer. But you’ve seen what response I get from our jailers. What else can we do but wait.” Blackmore couldn’t see Nance’s face, but he could tell by the silence Nance was non too happy with the answer. Nance was a man of action. The complete opposite to Blackmore’s wait and see approach.

The doctor stood and walked over to Blackmore, settled himself down next to the captain and took a deep breath. “We need to leave here, now rather than later. We are all getting weaker and weaker. At some point, some of these injuries,” he waved a hand in the direction of the men scattered around the large holding area, “will go to gangrene. And I’m surprised we haven’t seen dysentery yet.” The doctor let that sink in and said nothing more for a few minutes. When none was forthcoming, he drew in another long breath. “In another six months, half of us could be dead and the rest will be well on their way to death from starvation. Our captors don’t want us to survive.”

Those last seven words hit home with Blackmore and he turned his body to face the doctor. “You believe that?”

“The evidence is before your eyes, captain. Just look at your men. Each and every one of us has lost weight, not gained any. The injured are succumbing to their injuries. Something has to be done to either get more food or escape and try and live off the land.”

“This is Africa, doctor, not a stroll in a park in New York,” Blackmore hissed. He couldn’t help the sound of scorn in his voice, but he knew the doctor had a valid point.

The two men sat and nothing was said. Birds had started to twitter outside and they could here the noises of other activity, human activity, outside.

The sound of multiple rifles being fired caused a flurry of birds to presumably fly from a perceived danger.

“That’s the third time in as many days. What do you think they’re doing?” The doctor’s question hung in the air for a brief moment.

“Sounds to me like a firing squad. Our captors maybe getting rid of perceived enemies,” Blackmore said.

“Or witnesses.”

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

cover image demon murders

Here’s where I get a problem with this story. Is it moving into the realms of erotic fiction, or, as intended, is the antagonist simply doing what she does and using sex to attain her desired goal? Is the sex too over the top?

 

A New Start

May Brubaker walked backwards across the sidewalk, the summer sun making her squint as she watched the sign to her shop going up. This was a new venture for the ex-cop and she wanted so much to make it work. Having left the police, May was unsure what she wanted to do, but certain leaving the LAPD was the right move. The death of Gary Mitchell had hit her hard and this was a way to put her previous life well and truly behind her.

Nothing had prepared her for the death of Gary and the aftermath had been an awful journey through sleepless nights and guilt at not being able to do anything to save Gary.

Now, as she watched the sign going up, she had the chance to start over and at thirty, she was still young enough to make a real go at this new venture.

Brubaker’s Bits ‘n’ Pieces

The sign was in red, white and blue and that had been at Phil’s insistence. Phil Campbell was an out and out patriot and his desire to expound on the good things in America never ceased to amaze May. But the fact was that this shop and its online equivalent sold computer bits and pieces and, as everyone knew these days, it was all made in China. Patriotism didn’t seem to matter when it came to business and Phil had ignored May’s comment when she had pointed this fact out.

“Looking good, May.” Phil’s smooth salesman’s voice made May jump.

“I’ve told you before, don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m liable to knock you down.”

“May, I work out, so I’m pretty fit you know.”

“Phil, I was a cop and I work out too. Believe me; you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

This type of banal banter was a regular feature of their relationship and May was getting a little tired of it. Phil was the type of guy who always talked about himself and always talked himself up, especially to women. His idea of a good night out was to have dinner with a good looking woman and talk about himself and all the things he had achieved in life, embellishing the tale with a fair dollop of bullshit. But he was May’s partner, albeit her junior partner. May had the money and he had the expertise. It should work, but May was slightly uneasy about it.

As the two of them looking at their creation, the early morning sunshine promising another glorious day, May felt a wave of nausea and fear sweep over her and she grabbed Phil’s arm.

“You okay, May?” Phil asked, a startled expression on his face. “You look sick.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine… just thinking on you know… It’ll pass.”

Phil nodded, his concern short-lived as he turned back to look at the shop.

May passed a trembling hand over her forehead. “Listen; I have to shoot off home and get on with my decorating. Jimmy’s coming over later so I need to have everything straight before I meet Dan at the airport tomorrow.”

Phil sighed and brushed a flop of his long blond hair from his brow. “May, why are you bothering with a loser like him?”

It was a sigh that May had heard before and it was another little something about Phil that also annoyed May.

“Dan? You’ve never even met him!”

“No, Jimmy, not Dan. Get a pro in to do your chores; Jimmy’s not going to be able to do some of the specialised stuff you need with that house of yours; like security. I know people who will do it for you and do it professionally.”

May gave Phil a disparaging look and turned to leave. “Jimmy’s good at just about everything,” she called over her shoulder. “If you know what I mean,” she added, looking over her shoulder and winking at Phil.

Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.

 

The young man slid into the bar stool and waited for the bartender to walk over. He looked around at the half-empty bar and noticed the shabby seating and knew why the place was empty. Nobody came here voluntarily and he was no exception to the rule. He didn’t usually respond to anonymous text messages but this one said it had news about his mother. A mother who had abandoned him at birth but had made contact when he was a teenager. Then came back into his life on an irregular basis, depending on when she needed money. Sure, he gave her money, but out of sympathy, not loyalty. This text message was probably her and he knew he would be a few hundred bucks lighter at the end of a brief visit.

The hand on his shoulder made him jump in his seat and he quickly turned. It was a woman, but not his mother.

“Hi,” she said. A simple word accompanied by a flash of her dark eyes and at the same time, just for effect, she ran her left hand through her short, peroxide hair.

The young man felt the physical stirring in his loins and was shockingly aware of the movement in his jeans. His right hand automatically dropped to his lap in an embarrassed attempt to conceal his now rampant penis. “Oh err, oh.” It was all he could say as she slid, no, oozed onto the stool beside him. Her black leather crop top and black leather mini-skirt shimmering red under the shabby bars dim red lights.

“What’ll it be,” a man said.

“Whisky,” the women said, looking at the squirming man on the stool beside her. “Him too, he’s gonna need it.” She winked at the barman and turned her attention to her new companion, pulling herself to her full height on the stool, her breasts straining to leave the confines of her top. She pulled the crop top down slowly and the man beside her watched, beguiled by her. Then she squeezed her breasts, forming them into shape. “I hate bras,” she said in a deep and more than husky voice, “no need when you have breasts like mine, don’t you think?”

The man whimpered.

“So, how about a couple of drinks and then you can take me to a cheap hotel and fuck me until I squeal?” She licked her red lipped mouth once for effect and flashed brilliant white molars. To finish off, she slid her right hand across and fondled the bulge in the man’s jeans, giving it a hard squeeze. He was hers and she knew it.

Time passed in a blur for the man and he suddenly realised he was in the aforementioned cheap hotel and he and the blond were naked in bed, him on his back and she riding him like a bucking bronco. He had never had it so good and his manhood felt firm and hard. The women, he knew, was using and abusing him but he didn’t care. No more than he cared for his girl whom he was supposed to be visiting tomorrow.

The flash of the blade was fast and sure and the man gurgled briefly, his throat convulsing, but his penis remained gorged and the woman continued to ride him as he writhed under her, his blood splattering her breasts and then running in rivulets down to mingle with his semen and sweat in her shocking blond pubic hair, making it pink and sticky.

“Thoughts like that are gonna get you dead, buster,” she said to him as her final thrust brought her to climax.

She slumped forward, gazing into the man’s dead eyes. “Fuck! I’m so dead,” she muttered as blood seeped onto her lips. Lips that suddenly turned to a broad smile as she chuckled to herself.

“What a bad girl I am,” she sighed, dismounting from the corpse and heading for the shower.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

 

cover image demon murders

Motherly Love

The darkness of the night fell abruptly at Jude Brubaker’s desert home, matching the woman’s mood. As she sat on the stone steps leading up to her front door, looking across the Arizona countryside, she could smell the fragrance of Whitethorn Acacia on the warm breeze. Though heady, the smell did nothing to lighten Jude’s growing dark mood. It brought to mind the title of a book she read years before, Something Wicked, This Way Comes. When she read the book, all those years ago, it was disturbing to her for some reason she could not quite put her finger on.  Years later, with a lifetime of experience under her belt, Jude understood the meaning of malevolence and understood there were powers in this mortal world that were never meant to be seen, let alone used. And now, right here and right now, Jude knew the creeping crawling feeling on her skin and she knew why there were tears in her eyes. Fear of the unknown? Fear of dying even? Mostly, fear of the unknown. Something wicked was most certainly on its way and she knew where its first stop would be.

“Perception,” a voice said, “I like that.”

Jude stifled a scream as the skin on her back crawled. Something was behind her, something dark, wicked, cruel and yes, malevolent.

“Oh, please don’t stop there,” the voice said. “You make me sound so… interesting. And yes, I can read your thoughts, human.”

Jude detected a rasp in the voice, indicating the being had only just arrived and had not quite assimilated, yet. But she knew it was there, knew it was a shapeless mass of swirling blackness, distorted, wispy even, but most definitely forming into a human shape. In all her years in this mortal world, she had never felt such hate before.

“Yes, only just arrived. No time to even drop my bags off yet,” the voice said, giggling hysterically.

“Aren’t you going to turn and face me? Face your mistress?”

Jude’s head shook, her long black hair shining in the faint light given by a now rising quarter moon. “You are no mistress of mine, spirit.”

Spirit?” The voice screeched and Jude still did not turn, but instead smiled inwardly. Round one to me.

“Hah, you think? You think you can better me?”

Jude shook her head once more. “No, I cannot best you. But I know someone who can.”

The fearful scream that followed made Jude’s body reverberate and the fear she felt was so intense she cried out in abject terror and wept the tears of someone who knew her very soul was at risk.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

 

cover image demon murders

Death of a Friend

Present Day.

May Brubaker settled to her knees and crouched down below the wall’s top line of bricks. The walled entrance to the new upmarket condo was hot from being in the sun all day and now giving off its stored heat at the end of the day. The heat was  seeping through Brubaker’s body armour causing beads of sweat to trickle down her back. The apartment block nestled between two other complexes on the newly developed LA waterfront. In the dim late September evening light, she fingered her Glock special and slowly slipped the safety to off. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly

“I heard that, Brubaker,” Gary Mitchell whispered.

Brubaker smiled and let out a soft sigh.

“Are you ever going to forgive me for that?” She hissed.

“Never,” hissed Mitchell in response, amusement in his voice.

Mitchell was a few feet in front of Brubaker, crouching behind a similar wall across the entrance pathway. Three years ago, Brubaker had been partnered with Mitchell as beat officers in downtown LA. The two had an instant rapport and over the next year became firm friends as well as devoted partners in the LAPD.

It had been during a routine stakeout, in much the same surroundings they found themselves in now, that Brubaker, an inexperienced rookie, had inadvertently shot her partner in his left buttock. It had only been a nick, but it belied the inherent danger all police officers lived with. A simple mistake could cost a life.

Mitchell had taken it in good grace, but the whole department had ribbed Brubaker incessantly. They had even drawn lots to see who would have the misfortune to partner her while Mitchell recovered. No one had won as the Captain had put Brubaker on leave at the same time and told her to go away and think about what she had done.

Although the incident had been dangerous, Mitchell forgave Brubaker at once, but still couldn’t resist pulling Brubaker’s leg about it, even now, three years later.

“Okay! Okay! I still owe you on that one.”

“Big time,” Mitchell hissed a broad smile on his face.

Brubaker was sick of crouching, but there was little she could do. Since she and Mitchell had both made detective grade at much the same time and found themselves as partners once more, they had carried out more drug bust stakeouts than anyone on the force in the last year, and each one seemed to require a wall that had to be crouched behind. The pair were with a half dozen uniformed officers, all in various positions close to their location and each were now starting the inevitable fidget routine associated with long-term crouching activities. May, in particular, was getting exasperated.

“My back’s killing me,” Brubaker whispered.

Mitchell looked across at his partner and smiled.

A subtle click in their earpieces told them that control for the bust was about to make an announcement.

“This is control. This is control. All units stand down. Target has been apprehended. Repeat. Target has been apprehended.”

Brubaker and Mitchell looked at each other with astonished expressions. They were the lead pair and if anyone was going to ‘apprehend’ anyone it should have been them.

Brubaker clicked her wrist-com. “Unit one to control. Say again and advise.”

“This is Control. You heard me Brubaker. Mission accomplished and time to go home.”

Gary Mitchell stood up and stretched his back.

It happened so fast that Brubaker thought she was seeing things.

The shot rang out and as if in slow motion, the bullet, from an underpowered rifle, was already spinning when it hit Mitchell’s forehead. A single low crack pierced the still evening air and the top of Mitchell’s head was history. As Brubaker watched, Mitchell almost turned and a small smile crossed his lips before his knees buckled and he slumped backwards.

Brubaker was over three feet from her partner, but the blood and small chunks of grey matter from Gary Mitchell’s brain still managed to splatter May’s face.

May Brubaker screamed.

***

 

May sat at the conference room table, head in her hands, staring at the shiny wooden table-top, numb to the activity going on around her. She was having a hard time of making sense of Gary’s death and had put the world on hold until she could work out what went wrong.

It was over, the bust had happened! What did we do wrong?

Questions tumbled through her tired mind, questions without answers. Only one thing was certain, Gary was dead. She would never see him again, never hear that infectious laugh.

Brubaker! Brubaker!

Captain Halloran’s voice finally impinged on May Brubaker’s stunned mind.

“Yes sir,” May said, sitting up straight.

“Answer the question, Brubaker.”

May shook her head. “Sorry, I missed that, what question?”

Halloran sighed and looked to Lieutenant Chappell. Chapple shrugged, not bothering to raise his eyes to meet that of his senior officer, concentrating instead on the pen he was twirling on the table top. “I asked, Brubaker, why you and Gary stood down.”

May frowned at the question. “It came over the comms, we were told the bust had happened and we were to stand down. I queried it, but as I did so Gary stood to stretch and…” May’s voice trailed off.

“I didn’t give any order to stand down,” Chapple said in a deadpan voice, still not raising his eyes to look at anyone in the room.

“You told us to stand down,” Brubaker almost shouted. “I heard you and so did Gary, why else would he stand up?”

Chapple shook his head, his tightly cropped blond hair almost twinkling under the glare of the neon lights. “We were on radio-silence, nobody transmitted.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t hear me query your orders.”

Chapple stood quickly and slammed a palm on the table, sending the pen he was toying with across the table and onto the floor. “I didn’t give any orders! Are you calling me a liar, Brubaker?”

May also stood up, slamming both her palms onto the table, “Yes you son of a bitch, I am calling you a liar.”

“Sit down, both of you,” the Captain’s voice boomed. “We have it all recorded, May, nobody broke radio silence, not even you.”

May Brubaker screamed for the second time that day, this time in fury, as she stormed out of the conference room and out of the LAPD HQ.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

 

cover image demon murders

This is a novel I wrote some four years ago. I’m publishing the first few chapters here just to see if it’s worth publishing  as an eBook. Problem is, I have no real idea what genre this should be.

Prologue

1960s.

The desert heat, sand and moaning wind all contrived to make the young man want to turn over and simply go to sleep. He was exhausted, but a grim determination made him move forward, to keep putting that next step down and then move his other leaden leg in front of it. One step at a time.

If that’s’ what it takes, that’s what it takes. One step at a time.

The day had started out as any other, another hot day in Giza, Egypt, on his Uncle’s  archaeological dig. Sunny skies and rising temperatures threatened a cauldron of heat inside the chamber. If it hadn’t been for the punka-wallahs his uncle had employed, then the chamber would have been too hot to bear.

As with all these things, the whole business was an unreserved bore. The young man didn’t hate it, but he had friends back in London and it was currently the fab place to be. The Beatles had brought glamour and excitement to London and he was young enough and rich enough to enjoy it.

But no, his father had insisted he go with his Uncle and ‘dig a few fossils up’ in order to ‘get an education’ to ‘see what he wanted to do with his life.’ He already knew what he wanted to do with his life, get drunk, get laid and get high, not necessarily in that order.

But here he was a leading member of the rich set, the high society in England and he was lost in some god forsaken desert.

Not only lost in the literal sense, he had almost lost his life.

Finding a demon in a small casket in the tomb had not been on the agenda that day. They expected the bejeweled casket to have precious artifacts and jewels inside, they had eagerly opened it up and like the fabled Genie in the lamp, a terrible demon had popped out of nowhere and commenced a destructive killing spree, laying to waste all in its path.

If he hadn’t found the blade in the casket and used it to kill the demon, he would lay dead alongside his uncle and all those at the site. Only he survived and of the demon there was no trace.

Alone and with no supplies the young man headed off into the desert to try and find help. There was none to be had and he was soon lost.

But at least he had found his forte in life. He now knew what he wanted to do. Find demons and destroy them as they had destroyed his Uncle and the men at the dig. He would forsake the high life willingly, he wanted revenge.

It was this desire for revenge that drove him forward and it was this desire that led to a fateful meeting.

The young man had suddenly stumbled, staggered and then lost his footing and crashed; face down, to the sandy ground.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a pair of British Army boots. Inside the boots, as he looked up, was the biggest man he had ever seen. Dressed in Arabic gear he would have mistaken the man for a Bedouin, but the boots gave it away.

“Hello mate. You lost?” The big man asked.

The young man nodded.

“Me too, pal,” he said, offering his hand to pull the young man up. The strength in the big man’s arms was impressive as he pulled the young man to his feet.

“Tell you what, how about you and I trying to find our way home from here?”

“Okay,” the young man said, with a smile.

The big man held his hand out and the young man shook on it.

“Cedric, Cedric Abuthnott,” the big man said.

“Peter, Peter Samuels,” the young man answered.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

 

image of our dog Harvey

Every day is different, if it wasn’t we would all be bored to death. But when you have a sickly dog, you sometimes wish every day could be the same.

Harvey’s cancer has been pretty stable over the last few weeks. It was never going to get better, but it wasn’t getting any worse. Indeed, we had a great time yesterday around the pool and Harvey was joining in the fun as much as he could. He slept well last night because of that. Then came the body blow.

Harvey eats his meals with great gusto, even taking into account steroids. For his breakfast he was having Pedigree Chum (his favourite) with a little pasta. Halfway through his nose began to bleed. It was slight at first and then it was a bit of a gusher. I managed to clean him up and then it was a mad scramble to the vet’s practice, twenty minutes away.

Harvey is at the vets as I write and he is having bleeding agents injected. What his status is we cannot say until the drugs have been administered and he will be in overnight.

This event is pretty normal for nasal cancer and having read about it extensively, it seems Harvey’s been pretty lucky so far. But it is another step down that slippery slope that leads to an inevitable outcome. All that can be done is to wait and hope.

image of our dog Harvey

Harvey’s cancer, let’s call it out for what it is, isn’t going to get any better, in fact it will progressively get worse until we come to the point  of no return. We have to face the fact that the inevitable will occur at some point in time. It could be three months it could be eighteen months, but the inevitable will happen.

Having said that, since we put him back on steroids four days ago he has come on leaps and bounds, well okay, a little wobbly but he’s a lot happier, a lot more stable.

Harvey has good days and he has bad days, but lately they’re pretty good and he eats well, gets around and is enjoying his life. That is all we can hope for and expect.

The above was written a few days back and Harvey has had  a couple of bad days and worse nights. Last night though he slept right through… I didn’t because I was waiting for the bark to say he wanted to go to do his business. When I got up at 4am he had been on the lounge floor. He’s at the point where he’s starting to wee and pooh without knowing it. It’s not often, but it may become more pronounced.

Tomorrow his stitches come out and we’ll see what our vet thinks of his progress.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019

 

imGE OF Nasturtium plantThere’s nothing better to lift someone’s spirits than a few blooms coming out in the spring. With all the woes we’re experiencing with Harvey’s health it’s nice to see the garden in bloom. From Do-it-Yourself hanging baskets with day-glow nasturtium to morning glory blooming, well, in the morning, it’s nice to feel the warmth from the sun and see the colours coming through.

I’ve spent a lot of time between the end of February and now sowing seeds, nurturing them, bringing them on and replanting them in the borders. Now I’m starting to see the results.

The border areas to the house, which I never had in our previous house, are filling up and the roses, jasmine and fruit trees are all beginning to bloom.

image of a border garden

Even Holly is enjoying sniffing the plants.

image of Holly and the fruit trees

I’ve had a few disasters where the seeds have not germinated, notably the strawberries and Inca berries, but mostly everything I sowed has had some success.

image swallow on her nest

We even have our own resident swallow and the bats are also out in the evening.

All in all it’s looking pretty good so far.

Copyright Tom Kane © 2019

As a English expat author living in Cyprus, you may think my life revolves around cocktails by the pool. You would be wrong. In ten years on the island I’ve had my fair share of adventures and interesting experiences.

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Living in Cyprus: 2018  is out now, packed full of photographs and over 230 pages in length. This book is three books in one with details of my recent trip to Australia and Italy’s Lake Como. This new release is three times bigger than any of the previous five volumes, 2013 to 2017 and at only £3.99 on Amazon Kindle is still a bargain price.

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Living in Cyprus: 2015 here

Hitler’s Secret Atomic Bomb here

An Indie Author Quick Guide to Blogging here

 

 

 

image of Holly and Harvey spriger spaniels

Holly and Harvey

Friday was a bad day at black rock for me, full of doom and gloom with no light at the end of the tunnel. Saturday dawned and with it came a little glimmer of light. I had fully expected to have to make a decision I had made several years earlier with another pet dog. Sammy was a cross-breed who was my then girlfriend’s dog. Sammy contracted lymphoma. We had treated her, on the vets advice, with chemo therapy. It was extensive and aggressive and It didn’t help. In the end Sammy was so ill we took her to the vet’s and I went in with her. Sammy wasn’t eating, was listless and didn’t want to roam the garden, simply staying in her bed and looking thoroughly miserable. The vet informed me she was not going to survive unless we gave her a new radical treatment. This new treatment could easily kill her by stopping her heart, but it would push back against the cancer. Kill or cure? And the vet insisted it wasn’t going to cost a lot. The cost wasn’t the deciding factor, but I had the distinct feeling the vet was happy to extend Sammy’s agony to boost his turnover. I opted for euthanasia and am glad I did. It was the hardest thing I had ever done and gently held her as the drugs were administered. With a barely perceptible sigh, Sammy passed away and her agony was finally over.

I am not adverse to making hard decisions, life and death decisions, and I did not want Harvey to suffer in the same way Sammy had, so I was fully prepared on Saturday to go to the vets and seal Harvey’s fate. Harvey, though, had other ideas. He was full of life and so happy to see us. The vet explained that though the cancer in his nose is spreading it is localised and slow and not likely to spread into the rest of his body. It’s not painful and is only irritating him, which can be alleviated to a degree with treatment. Harvey is not in pain and the vet felt that he still had a good quality of life. The upshot is, Harvey is still around, still enjoying life and still chewing my plants in the garden.

Harvey came home on Saturday and was groggy from the effects of the anesthetic on Friday, but he was full of life and also full of pee… which he promptly deposited on my feet.

It seems the old saying, you can’t keep a good dog down applies perfectly to Harvey. Yes he has cancer, no he’s not suffering. But, the long-term prognosis is that survival rates are anything from 3 to 18 months. Our vet seems to think Harvey’s heading for the latter end of the scale. Harvey has survived Ataxia, a huge cyst in his stomach and now nasal cancer. But we have to be alert and as soon as he starts to suffer, that’s when the hard choices are made.

One thing is for certain, our vet isn’t in this for the money and not pushing us into boosting his turnover. From a predicted bill of €500 for just the operation, the actual cost was €80 including medication.

For now we wait and watch and as long as Harvey enjoys a run around the garden and is not off his food and even plays with his pal Holly, then that makes me happy.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2019